


It's a Quarter Past Midnight and the Secrets Are Flowing

by punto_y_coma



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Amnesia, Consensual Underage Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, IT Chapter Two Fix-It, Idiots in Love, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Reddie, Sleeping Together, Sleepovers, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:33:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punto_y_coma/pseuds/punto_y_coma
Summary: Richie and Eddie’s story told through their sleepovers.Fix-it, canon divergent, happy ending <3
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 93





	It's a Quarter Past Midnight and the Secrets Are Flowing

**(1989)**

**1.**

Eddie's arm was itchy inside the cast, he couldn't sleep. His mother had made a point of making the doctor change the entire thing after Eddie had showed up back home smelling and looking like a dead rat. He didn't blame her really, at least not in that respect; the whole 'making him believe that he was sick for thirteen years of his life' was a different story. Things had been frosty between Eddie and his mother ever since that day and he hadn't been able to go and see the Losers.

He rolled to his side to look at the window, there was a half full moon and it reminded him a little of Pennywise's smile. He shivered.

_Tap, tap, tap_

The sound against the window pane almost made Eddie jump out of his bed. It was a childish thing to do, but he drew the bedsheets to cover him entirely, his breath shaking.

_Tap, tap, tap_

He clenched his eyes and fists.

_Tap, tap, tap_

"Eds! Come on! Let me in!"

Eddie cautiously turned on the light on his bedside table, got out of bed and clicked his window open, just an inch.

"Richie?"

"Who were you expecting? The tooth fairy?" Richie spat, he was crouching on a branch from the tree next to Eddie's house. Eddie had never climbed it himself but it didn't look like it was going to hold Richie's weight much longer.

"Jesus Christ, get in, idiot," Eddie moved to let him jump inside his room with a loud thud. "Keep it down!"

"Sorry, I'll try to fall more graciously next time," Richie rolled his eyes. "Do I look like a ballerina to you?"

"Shhh! Why are you even here?"

"We've all been worried. And I know you said you'd be fine but-" Richie shrugged. "I don't know! What if your Mom kept giving you pills until you actually died?"

Eddie frowned, his first impulse was to defend her but he couldn't, not like he used to. "I mean, yeah, she was furious," he scratched around his cast nervously. "But, uh, for whatever it's worth, I think she wouldn't poison me or anything... I feel like it's more about me believing her and taking the fake pills, being a good boy and staying at home."

Richie gave him a sad smile. "She's not letting you leave, is she?"

"Not at all. I'm guessing I'll see you guys when school's back," it was half a joke and so Eddie faked only half a chuckle.

"D'you need anything?" Richie asked. "Gummy bears? Comics? One of my Dad's magazines?"

"Ew, no," Eddie scrunched his face at the last addition.

"Pretend all you want Spaghetti but if I was locked up during the summer, I'd be wanking all day," Richie raised his hands in a 'sorry, not sorry' gesture.

"You're absolutely disgusting," Eddie declared, scrunching his nose, there was the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, though. "I'm fine, Richie, really. Tell the Losers I miss them," he moved towards the window, cracking it open again for Richie to leave. "Be careful on the way down."

"Ouch! Eds!" Richie brought a hand to his chest melodramatically. "You won't even offer me some refreshment for the road? Where's that small town hospitality? That bare human decency?"

Eddie squinted at him. "Say what you wanna say, dumbass."

Richie's smile wavered a little. "My folks were fighting," he admitted. "I have enough nightmares as it is. I can go if you want-"

"Don't be stupid," Eddie closed the window again and climbed back into bed. "Take off your shoes."

"Give me some credit, Eds, I'm not an animal," Richie replied, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, unlacing his sneakers.

Eddie made a little incredulous noise that made Richie smile.

"So… You coming here to check up on me-?" Eddie asked.

"I was going to come tomorrow morning, actually," Richie said plainly. "It would have made climbing that goddamn tree a lot easier," he pushed Eddie to the side as he settled under the covers. "We _were_ worried."

Eddie didn't say anything back but he nudged Richie's foot with his own.

"How's your arm, by the way?" Richie asked.

"Better. Got a new cast and everything. I'll probably be out of it by the end of the summer."

"That's good."

Their voices were getting quieter and quieter.

"You know, the doctor actually said that you didn't fuck up my arm that badly," Eddie said absently.

"Really?" Richie frowned. He had taken his glasses off and his eyes looked funny, too small.

"Kids' bones are more flexible so when they break... You know how celery sometimes breaks only halfway and has a little bit dangling from the string things?"

"Yeah?" Richie looked even more puzzled. "Your bone is the celery?"

"Kind of. The doctor would have had to break it properly anyway, is what I'm trying to say," Eddie finished lamely.

"Good to know, for the next time," Richie mused.

Eddie sighed in exasperation. "You were trying to set my bone but ended up breaking it, I don't think that's positive feedback."

"Then I don't get what you're trying to say, Eds. I already said sorry like three times," Richie reminded him.

"No, you dick," Eddie struggled to find the words for what he was trying to say. "I guess- I guess I'm glad it was you who broke it, not the doctor."

Richie smiled and reached out to ruffle Eddie's hair.

"Anytime, Eddie."

**2.**

"Eds, what the hell are you doing here?" Richie jumped at the sight of Eddie on his doorstep. They had said goodbye at Bill's merely an hour ago; Richie could still taste the icing of the cupcakes Bill's Mom had made.

"I kind of ran away from my Mom's," Eddie looked at his sneakers sheepishly.

"What? Today?" Richie's eyes widened.

"Yeah. I started talking about how now that Bill's sixteen he's learning how to drive and that I think I should start too... She freaked out. I had never seen her like that before. I couldn't stay," Eddie bit his lips and gestured at the rucksack he had left on the floor. "It would only be for the night, maybe the weekend..."

Richie waved a hand to shut him up. "You don't need to explain. _Mi casa es su casa_ , Eduardo," he added playfully, walked him to his room and messily emptied one of his dresser drawers on the floor. "You can use this."

Eddie was annoyed by the mess but endeared by the gesture. "Thanks," he sighed.

"Well, I am gonna take a shower," Richie announced after smelling his armpits and grimacing. "Have you eaten yet? There's food downstairs, nothing good, but everything is edible."

Eddie nodded and Richie left the room.

It was quiet inside Richie's house, though not the kind of quiet you'd hear at a library, where every footstep sounded like a scream. No, Richie's house was quiet like a 24 hour store at around four in the morning, every light bulb buzzing, the murmur of someone moping the floors, every crevice filled with white noise. After the shouting match with his Mom, Eddie found it soothing.

He fell on the bed, exhausted and a little sad. He had screamed his throat raw and his head ached like he had been crying for hours. Maybe he should do that, he thought numbly. Under him, the mattress was unhealthily comfortable, and before he knew it, he was fast asleep. Later, he was vaguely aware of Richie rolling him to the side so that Eddie would be under the covers next to him.

"Good night, Spaghetti man," Richie mumbled and flung an arm over his chest like he did when they were kids. _'I have to hug my Eddie Bear! You're so cute and fluffy!'_ he used to say.

"G'night, Rich," he replied, leaning into the touch instead of fighting against it like he normally would. Eddie was so tired of fighting.

**3.**

It was very late. Or very early. Eddie didn't really know. The light from the street was silver and everything else was in shades of indigo: Bill's bookshelves, Eddie´s own faded sleeping bag, and Richie's hair. The Losers were all sprawled out on the floor of Bill's bedroom, like flowers that had wilted overnight. They used to do this all the time as kids: Stan with his sleeping bag perfectly parallel to Bill's bed; Mike on the other side, where Bill's hand was hanging low, like he had fallen asleep holding Mike's hand - that was new; then Richie, contorted wherever his sleeping bag landed when he had thrown it haphazardly on the floor; finally, Eddie, who had somehow managed to set his bag side by side with Richie's.

Eddie surprised himself feeling a little forlorn. Not that their sleepovers weren't fun now, it just felt different, especially with Richie. For weeks, Eddie had been weirded out and he couldn't put his finger on why. It wasn't like he was holding a grudge or anything like that but he _did_ feel irritated when he saw Richie, angry even. He couldn't stand the lewd jokes, the way he talked about girls, how obsessed he was with 'getting some'. It was his face, his choice of words, his thunderous laughter, the way he grabbed him for a hug... It made him wince, made him want to punch something. Lately, if he saw Richie from afar, his mop of hair standing out in the crowd, Eddie would walk the other way; he wasn't proud of it. Maybe he had outgrown their friendship? It was certainly a possibility. Richie showed no signs of slowing down or shaping up with age.

Eddie let out a painful sigh. He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and forget about it, wake up and have things be the way they used to be.

~

_He opened up his eyes to a bright sky, the sun was blinding even through the tree leaves. Richie was next to him, lying on the grass, smiling wide, placing some wild flower in Eddie's hair._

_"Cute," Richie declared, then bent over to kiss his cheek._

_Eddie smiled easily. They had done this so many times before: left school, found some secluded spot near the quarry to talk, flirt, kiss..._

_Richie scooted on the grass to get closer to Eddie, grabbed his waist and moved so that he hovered over him._

_"Hey, you," Eddie said, craning his neck to kiss Richie, running his fingers up and down Richie's sides, bony and ticklish._

_"Babe, don't," Richie reprimanded him but it lost some of its impact because it was followed by a languid kiss._

_"Babe?" Eddie asked when they parted, an eyebrow arched._

_"I'm just trying it on," Richie shrugged, smirking. "You like it?"_

_"Not sure," Eddie scrunched his nose. "I like it better than Honeybee and Eddie Bear."_

_"I insist those are perfectly good nicknames!" Richie sighed. "What about 'Kid', 'M'Dear', 'My Love'? Those have that 1940s appeal, ya know? Classic."_

_"’Dear’ is fine, I suppose… ‘Kid’ is just dumb. Sorry to break it to you but you’re not Humphrey Bogart, you can’t pull it off," Eddie chuckled. "And it would be kinda stupid to call me 'My Love' since we haven't actually said..."_

_"Ah, right!" Richie closed his eyes, it looked like he would have slapped his own head if his hands weren't busy holding him up. "I love ya, Eds," he added sweetly._

_"Don't say it just for some stupid nickname, asshole," Eddie slapped Richie's chest._

_"Ow! No, I do! I swear I do!" Richie said earnestly. "I love you so much."_

_Eddie studied his face for a minute, squinting, trying to find a trace of dishonesty. When he didn't find one, he grabbed the collar of Richie's shirt, dragging him down to kiss him hard, trying to fit in 'Why the hell would you tell me like that?' and 'Fuck, I adore you, you idiot!' in it._

_Eddie was somehow sure that if he couldn't have Richie, like this, to love him, he would have found a reason to hate him. That was how his fucked up brain worked._

_"I love you too, dumbass," Eddie said when they parted._

_Richie beamed over him. "Eddie, my lo-o-ove," he sang in a saccharine voice and Eddie laughed heartily. Richie started kissing his neck, his hips moving slowly against Eddie's…_

~

Eddie woke up with a start, his heart beating fast.

The room was exactly as it was when he had fallen asleep. Stan's sleeping bag, Bill's bookshelves, Richie's hair: everything was in its place and completely silent but for the murmur of Mike and Richie snoring. The room was just a little bit brighter, the first hints of sunrise going through the window.

Eddie pinched his own forearm under the covers making sure he was awake. Slowly but surely his breaths became more even and deeper. He didn't dare to move, especially not to his right, where Richie was sleeping. Richie didn't have a way of knowing but... Oh, fuck.

The realization of what had happened hit him at last. Dreams didn't predict the future, but some part of Eddie (most of it on the lower part of his body, if he was honest) wished they did.

As quietly as he could, Eddie got up and went to the bathroom. He washed his face and his hands with cold water until he was freezing all the way to his elbow, that usually did the trick. Eddie didn't particularly like to touch himself, it made him feel dirty and guilty, plus there was always the risk that his Mom would walk in.

He waited for a long while, sitting on the toilet with his knee bouncing, but his erection didn't go anywhere and it was already sunrise. It wouldn't be long before they all woke up.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie put a hand inside his pajama pants. He tried to concentrate on the feeling of his hand and keep his head there, away from fantasies of someone, some guy, some guy with messy hair and an annoying laugh... With his eyes closed, it was almost too easy to imagine Richie towering behind him, his nose against Eddie's neck, whispering 'Eddie, I got you, I got you, baby,' like they did in the movies. He had never seen two men kiss, let alone- But Eddie could picture it, another jagged breath to echo his, Richie's hands instead of his own-

It was over soon.

Eddie washed his hands and face before he returned to the room, walking on his tiptoes; his sleeping bag crinkled and he winced as he set himself next to Richie.

"Morning wank, Eds?" Richie asked without even opening his eyes.

Eddie gulped. "Can't a guy pee in peace, Trashmouth?" he managed to reply, with almost as much bite as he had intended.

"Fair 'nough," Richie mumbled, rolling to his other side, "just let the rest of us sleep, will you, sweetheart?" 

Eddie's heart hammered inside his chest. Living like this was going to be hell, he could tell already.

**4.**

The best thing about Richie's Mom was that she adored Eddie. She liked when he was around, thought he was a good influence on Richie. And so, no questions were asked when Eddie showed up for dinner, stayed late for homework, or joined Richie for breakfast. She was absentminded most of the time, anyway; too drunk, too hungover, too numb.

"She likes you more than me," Richie said while they brushed their teeth in front of the sink.

"That's a dumb thing to say," Eddie mumbled through his toothbrush.

"I mean it. _'Eddie, sweetheart, your Mom is out of town? Of course you can stay the weekend!'_ " Richie mocked in a high pitched voice.

Eddie elbowed Richie's ribs and tamed an endeared smile into something of an annoyed scowl.

" _You_ suggested I stayed here while my Mom was at my aunt's. _I_ can go to Bill's like I told my Mom I would, dipshit," he threatened - it was void, they both knew.

"But I would miss you too much," Richie said with a sugary voice, planting a kiss on Eddie's cheek, and leaving an imprint of foam and spit behind.

Eddie was torn between disgust and the thrill of being kissed by Richie, and for a second or two he stood still. When his brain caught up, he rushed to wash off the spit but the damage was done. Richie tipped his head with curiosity and Eddie pretended not to notice.

~

Eddie had been methodically going through the entirety of Richie's comic book collection during his sleepovers. It made him nostalgic but it also helped him pass the odd Friday or Saturday night when Richie was out late getting high or drunk. Eddie still couldn't really bring himself to just go out and get drunk for fun. He would vomit after two beers, his stomach churning with panic; his lungs would close up at the slightest hint of tobacco smoke...

The door opened and closed; he could hear Richie's boots going up the stairs, stumbling into the room.

"Hiya," he slurred in a sing-songy voice. Then he tripped over a shoe and fell messily on the bed. "Everything is spinning," he giggled.

"That's because you're drunk, dickwad."

"Don't be mad, Eddie Bear!"

"Don't call me that," Eddie got up from the floor and moved towards Richie. He grabbed his leg and moved it so that it was touching the ground. "Better?"

"Actually, yes. No more spinning. You're so smart!" Richie sounded almost bessoted.

Eddie merely rolled his eyes and sat next to him on the mattress. Richie was wearing one of his band t-shirts, a little too big on him; the collar rolled down to the side and showed a bruise near his collarbone.

"Did you fall? Where'd you get this?"

"Just now," Richie smiled proudly. "I was making out with this gorgeous-"

"Ugh! I don't wanna know," Eddie retracted in disgust.

"Blue eyes, great ass," Richie added dreamily.

"I said I don't want to know!"

This was hardly anything new. But Eddie hated it; he had always hated to hear about who Richie had been with.

"Really nice too! Apparently, he just moved here from New Jersey-" Richie mumbled.

"He?" Eddie asked absently, Richie was very drunk after all.

"Yeah! James or John something..." Richie scrunched his face trying to remember. "It will come back to me."

Eddie let out a humorless laugh. "You're joking."

"Hmm?"

"I said you're joking. You're always talking about girls and boobs and- You like girls," the way Eddie said it sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Yeah, sure! I like girls. _And!_ _I would never kiss a boy in my life!_ " Richie ended in an oaf-like voice, doing an annoying, dramatic wink.

"Rich, I'm serious," Eddie was losing his patience.

Richie flapped his arms aimlessly until one found Eddie's hand. "Don't be mad! It was just kissing, it didn't mean anything, I promise!"

"Right, I got that bit. But who were you kissing?"

"I told you! James-John from New Jersey!" Richie looked at him like he was stupid which was doing nothing for Eddie's nerves.

"So you kissed a guy?"

"Yep."

"So you like guys?"

"Boy, do I!" Richie chuckled and rolled to his side, getting comfortable in his bed. "But it's a secret, okay? You can't tell anybody, promise?" he squeezed Eddie's hand. "Nobody, not even the Losers, okay? They would freak out, especially Eddie."

Eddie's stomach dropped. "Okay, I promise."

Richie seemed content with the response and before long he was snoring.

Eddie's heart was racing but he couldn't move. His skin burned where Richie was touching him. Carefully, he let go of his hand and went to the bathroom.

He stared into the mirror: he was hyperventilating. A million things went through his head at once: Every time his Mom had said that men loving men was an illness, that men loving men had caused AIDS, that it was dirty, unnatural, a sin. Then, the memory of a grumbling voice offering him a blowjob for a dime...

Eddie shivered. He washed his hands twice and his face once.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_."

He went through the motions of getting ready for bed but he wasn't sure if he would be able to sleep. He saw Richie, one foot still on the ground, his face calm and open. And then he realized that Richie had been right. He was freaking out. Why? Because Richie had kissed some random dude?

Eddie could feel his fingernails digging into his palms. It wasn't just that, he knew. It concerned Richie but it kind of concerned him too, in a way he hadn't let himself think about since that one sleepover at Bill's - it felt like a lifetime ago.

He had the urge to shake Richie awake and- Ask him- Tell him- What? Eddie had no great insights on the meaning of life; he hardly knew what he wanted for himself most of the time. Richie did, it seemed...

Eventually, Eddie gathered enough courage to touch Richie's leg and take off his boots, roll him to the side and tuck him in, like Richie had done for him forever ago.

~

They didn't talk about it. Other than the enormous hangover that followed, Richie showed no signs of remembering that night. And Eddie didn't know how to bring it up until Monday.

They were getting ready for school and Richie was walking around the room shirtless. Usually, Eddie would have been more careful but he stared at the love bite a little too intensely and Richie noticed.

"Ah, this? It's an interesting story, Eddie, my chum. I met this girl at-"

"It's okay, Rich," Eddie interrupted softly. "I know."

"What?" Richie went pale but tried to hide it with a bigass grin. "Know what, Eds?"

"I know about what's-his-face from New Jersey. I know that you like guys," he gave Richie a pat on the shoulder and grabbed his backpack from the floor. "It's fine, I swear. Let's go, it's getting late."

He walked resolutely to the door and kept going. He had decided the day before that he’d act like everything was good and maybe it would be. Eventually, Richie caught up with him, panting.

"How'd you-?"

"You told me, the other night, when you were drunk. Said it was a secret," Eddie managed a sad smile.

"Do you- Uh- Are you mad? Because that would be fine, I would understand if you-"

"Hey!" Eddie grabbed Richie's wrist. "I'm not mad."

"Are you sure? This wasn't a one-time thing, like, I think it's permanent," Richie grimaced.

"I figured," Eddie chuckled a little.

Richie smiled and let out a sigh of relief.

"I was so sure you would freak out, Eds."

"Oh, I did," he admitted.

Richie winced. "I haven't- You know- With a guy, so I-"

"Rich," Eddie stopped him. "You don't have to- It's fine. It's fine."

"It's fine," Richie repeated with a relieved smile and cautiously stretched his arm around Eddie's shoulders to squeeze him to his side like he usually did. He moved slowly, giving Eddie time to dodge and move out of the embrace but he didn't.

As they walked to school, talking about stupid shit, Eddie felt his skin warming up where Richie was touching him, his stomach twisting around the bowl of cereal he had had for breakfast.

**5.**

"We're going to cure you of whatever hang-up you have with booze, dearest Edmund," Richie shook his shoulders playfully as he galloped to the kitchen. The tallest cabinet probably had kept the bottles out of reach from ten year old Richie but now that he was six feet and some change he could reach the cabinet more easily than either of his parents. "What's your poison? Vodka? Rum? Whiskey? I think we have a little tequila here somewhere..."

"One, you do know my name is Edward so stop playing dumb, you dick. Two, I don't have a hang-up, I just don't like alcohol or how it makes me feel. And newsflash asshole: Alcohol is bad for you, so..." Eddie had opened his arms in some grand gesture demanding applause but he deflated when Richie turned to see him, thoroughly unimpressed.

Richie's Mom was with her sister for the weekend, and his Dad was at a conference in some hellhole of Middle America. Richie wanted to let loose, and be wild, trash the house a little - no one would even notice. And, sure, he could do that anytime with strangers but he wanted Eddie to be there, to forget about his monster of a mother for a few damn hours, he had said that bit out loud.

"We have the house to ourselves and we are young, Eds!" he walked to him and grabbed his face. "For once in your life, act your age and stop worrying so goddamn much!"

Eddie huffed and tried really hard to come up with an excuse but his cheeks burned because Richie was touching them and his excitement was more contagious than any virus his mother had warned him about and he was so fucking tired of fighting back against this wild thing that Richie brought out in him. He sighed.

"Which one tastes better?" he asked glancing at the cabinet.

~

"Your hair's soft," Eddie commented absently. He was running his fingers through Richie's curls. They were sprawled out on the couch, Richie's head on Eddie's lap, both of them taking swigs of whiskey.

Richie had suggested a scientific approach. They would try each and every one of the drinks available to see which one Eddie liked best. The vodka burned his throat but was unexciting. The tequila was too much excitement for Eddie, it seemed, especially when Richie introduced the whole lime-salt-shot ritual.

"I'm pretty sure they don't drink it this way in Mexico," Eddie said, scrunching his face at a particularly sour lime.

"And how would you know, smartass?"

"Seems too much of a hassle to get drunk, to be honest," Eddie chuckled.

They played Richie's records loud, they danced and jumped and pushed each other around, screaming the lyrics of songs that talked about falling in love in clubs and touching the body of some forbidden stranger.

Eddie stumbled and threw an arm around Richie’s neck.

"I can't stand up straight!" he yelled and then cackled.

And they had sat down. Rum was okay, they agreed. But whiskey was Eddie's favorite.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Richie said snidely, and then burped.

"You are disgusting," Eddie declared but didn't remove his hand from Richie's hair. "What do you mean?"

"You know, whiskey is an old man's drink. You close f'cking business deals over whiskey. The cranky man sitting in his porch and shouting at kids loves whiskey," Richie said aimlessly.

"So, I'm an old man," Eddie slurred. He had trouble concentrating; his head was dizzy and he felt electricity where Richie was touching him. "We knew that already."

"Tell me something I don't know," Richie prompted. He sounded distant, a little absent. Eddie could have ignored him if he wanted to. But it didn't escape him that it was more of a challenge than a real petition at this point: they knew each other better than anyone.

"I'm not allergic to pickles," Eddie said after a moment of thought, "I just don't like them."

Richie sat up and Eddie immediately missed the warmth of him on his lap. He looked at Eddie as seriously as he could with how drunk they both were. "I used your inhaler. Three separate times. You never noticed."

"You what?! When the fuck-?!"

"Middle school, I guess? Before you stopped using it, that summer uh-" it trailed off and Richie took another swig of whiskey.

That summer. The summer Eddie broke his arm and didn't see much of Richie except for- Well it was all a blur, wasn't it? Eddie was dizzy just thinking trying to picture it, the way they were four years ago. Richie's spit on his inhaler... His lips where Eddie's had been...

"Why?" Eddie asked.

"At first, I wanted to see what it tasted like," Richie replied flatly. "And then... I don't know, it felt like being close to you, I guess? I don't even know, Eds, I was thirteen for fuck's sake!" he covered his face.

Eddie didn't say anything for a while. He should be mad, and maybe it was the booze but he understood the twisted logic behind it: Richie being there for Eddie, safely tucked inside his pocket, handy for whenever he was so afraid he couldn't breathe. Old imprints of kisses. Caring for someone so bad it hurts but keeping it a secret. It was a feeling Eddie knew well enough.

He downed his drink.

"You could've just lent me a sweatshirt, you fucking weirdo," Eddie said finally.

Richie uncovered his face.

"I s'ppose," he let out a humorless, relieved chuckle. "Now you go, Eds."

"I- I think that's it," he shrugged. "You know pretty much everything about my sad life."

"C'mon! That can't be all! You've never once told me about a girl. I want some hook up stories!"

"Well," Eddie bit the inside of his cheek. "You're not that great at keeping secrets, Trashmouth," he deflected and regretted it immediately.

"Oh, don't _'Trashmouth'_ me, you asshole!" Richie waved his drink so forcefully he spilled most of it on the couch. "I trust you with my fucking life. You know my dirtiest, darkest secret," he reminded. Eddie did trust Richie. It was just that...

"Fine," Eddie mumbled, looking down at the empty glass he was holding. "I've only kissed two girls: Bev, that one time we were playing spin the bottle, and some girl I met in the town where my aunts live. She made me kiss her at New Year's, a couple of years ago."

"Made you?"

"We were watching the fireworks and suddenly she was in my face saying "New Year's kiss?". Didn't even wait for me to answer," he huffed and avoided Richie's gaze. "Look, I know it's not the sordid kind of thing you wished for but it's the truth. Two kisses, that's it. And they both kind of sucked."

"Hey," Richie called. "Eds."

When he looked up, Richie's eyes were on him, pupils blown and half a smile. And there it was again: the pull between his ribs, the twist in his gut, the tickle on his palms because they were empty. Was he having a panic attack or was he just living? Eddie had always had trouble telling the difference between the two.

"It's fine," Richie said. An echo reverberated inside Eddie and he almost felt brave enough to climb on the couch cushions and plant one on Richie. "You'll find someone."

_Oh._

"Yeah, I- I guess," Eddie tried really hard to do a convincing smile. "Did you- uh- hear from that guy from New Jersey?"

"Nah. It wasn't like that. It's never like that," he mumbled.

"Hmm?" Eddie purposefully avoided Richie's gaze, he felt like he might start crying or throwing up at any moment. He surprised himself when he realized he missed the drowsy valor that alcohol had given him; their current conversation had almost completely sobered him up. Maybe he wouldn't care if he was drunker, maybe that's why Richie's Mom liked it so much... "It's never like what?"

"Like this," Richie gestured at the space between them. "Like us. The guys I make out with - we don't talk about real shit," Richie shrugged. "It's not part of the deal."

"You said he was nice-" Eddie said numbly, looking at his feet.

"Yeah. Well-" Richie kicked off his shoes and melted even deeper into the couch. "Keep in mind that we can't stroll around Derry holding hands and sharing milkshakes. I- It's harder when you get attached."

Eddie raised his eyes, cautiously. Richie looked sad. Eddie raised a hand, aiming for Richie's cheek but landing on his shoulder. Richie's lip curled a little, a ghost of a smile.

"I'm going to bed," Richie announced. "Coming?"

"Sure."

They slept on the same mattress, like they always did, but Eddie took great care of keeping as much space between them as he could. Even as he was dozing off, he kept his fists clenched. _‘I'm not touching him, not even in my sleep. He doesn't want me,’_ he repeated over and over in his head.

Eddie woke up with every muscle of his body tensed up, his mouth dry, his head throbbing, and Richie's arms wrapped around him.

Eddie let out a muffled squeak and Richie shuffled a little but he didn't wake, his knee bumping against Eddie's hip, his head burying deeper into Eddie's neck.

"This is hell," Eddie mumbled. "I've died of alcoholic congestion and this is hell."

"What?" Richie was less than half awake as he turned towards Eddie's voice and kissed his neck softly.

Eddie's heart started hammering fast. Not that he wasn't enjoying the feeling of it but –

"Rich?"

"Yeah?" he had stopped kissing and now was simply moving his nose up and down the length of Eddie's neck, breathing, sending shivers down his spine. His hands had stopped merely holding Eddie and now were going to his waist, under his shirt, up his ribs...

Eddie retreated to the edge of the mattress; he could feel himself getting flustered and, God help him, hard.

"Rich." It was curt and dry, a slap across the face, a wakeup call.

All of a sudden, Richie's half-lidded eyes and relaxed smile turned into wide-eyed shock.

"Oh, shit," he removed every bit of skin that was touching Eddie's like it was a burning flame. "Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" he leapt out of the bed and slammed the door behind him leaving Eddie alone with his semi.

After what felt like hours, Richie knocked on the door but kept it closed.

"Eds, I'm sorry. I-"

Richie, who had talked his way out of every fucking inconvenience since he was seven, couldn't finish his sentence.

Eddie moved to the door, sat by it. The paint on the door was chipping; he picked at it with his nails and then ran his hand over it, very aware that Richie was on the other side.

"Just- Forget about it. It's all good," Eddie said after a while. He had racked his brains for something sensible to say and that was all he could come up with. He could blame the hangover but that would be a lie.

"It's not!" Richie's voice was muffled by the door but it still sounded desperate. "When I told you... You signed up for having a friend who liked guys not a friend who- who tried to fucking seduce you at a sleepover!"

"Seduce me?! What am I? A fucking milkmaid in the middle ages?!"

"Well, how would you phrase it then, dickwad?"

"I thought you were apologizing," Eddie reminded, his tone a little sour. Richie didn't say anything back, which, in a way, was him playing nice. Eddie was good at compartmentalizing, spectacular, really. And so, it was almost too easy to grab every bit of him that wanted Richie and bottle the whole thing, lock it up and archive it for some other moment when their friendship wasn't at stake. "You were half asleep, you thought I was someone else... It's not a big deal."

Eddie heard Richie drop to the floor like he was nothing but a bag of bones.

"You thought- Wait, you think that I did what I did because I was thinking of someone else?" Richie sounded almost outraged.

Eddie frowned. "Yes?"

"Eddie, I'm nearsighted but I'm not legally blind just yet."

"But you-" Eddie blinked rapidly.

"I didn't want you to find out like this, Eds. _Fuck_ , I didn't want you to find out at all, to be honest," there was a thud to the door, something heavy, something that must have been Richie's head. "Eddie, please say something."

The next thing Richie knew was that the door opened and he landed unceremoniously on the carpeted floor.

"What the f-?"

His curses were cut short when Eddie kissed him. The angle was weird, Eddie was kneeling and Richie was leaning on his elbows; they both had morning breath; and Eddie was a little too enthusiastic so their teeth clashed painfully. It was awful.

But Richie sighed into the kiss; grabbed the back of Eddie's neck; and at last it felt like they both surrendered. It was heaven.

Eddie moved away first.

"Fuck, I'm going to need breakfast before we even have this conversation," he said getting up, making his way downstairs.

"Guess I'll just fuck myself," Richie mumbled and followed him down.

Eddie was already in the middle of gathering the ingredients to make pancakes.

"Are you seriously making pancakes while hungover?" Richie scrunched his face in disgust.

"I need time to think," Eddie replied.

"To think what? If you liked that?!" Richie looked particularly manic with his bed head and whatever dance he was doing with his hands. "I'll tell you right now, dude, if you have to think about it, you probably have your answer right there."

Eddie looked up from the bowl of pancake batter. "Are you done?" his eyebrows were raised.

"Yeah..." Richie crossed his arms, he seemed to have softened somewhat.

"I need to think how we could make this work."

"This?"

"You. Me. This," Eddie gestured at the space between them with the whisk. "I want it. The kissing, the handjobs, the dessert plate with two spoons... I want the whole enchilada."

Richie stared, his mouth agape. There was a moment of silence and then he reached across the counter to place his palm over Eddie's forehead.

"You don't have a fever... You still drunk, Eds?"

"Funny," Eddie replied with a roll of his eyes.

"I'm serious, Eddie, what the actual fuck?" Richie buried his face in his hands. "Just last night you were whining about how you haven't kissed a girl in God knows how long and now you're saying you want something with a guy- Scratch that. Not just any guy, your friendly neighborhood Trashmouth, who you have, on more than one occasion, called a 'disgusting dickswab'."

Eddie started heating up the pan, throwing a dollop of butter carelessly into it.

"First off," he pointed at Richie with the spatula, "I wasn't whining. I was telling you that I have never enjoyed kissing a girl and that I haven't tried to do it since. Now what does that sound like to you, asshole?"

Richie's mouth formed a perfect 'O'.

"I didn't say anything before because I didn't think it would matter," suddenly Eddie was very glad that he could turn his attention to the pancakes instead of Richie's face. He kept talking, his gaze fixed on the stove, nudging a pancake he had just poured and ruining it, like an idiot. "You've always seemed so sure... And I didn't know for sure... I still don't. It's just you."

"Shit, Eds..."

"Look, if you just want to hook up, we can do that after breakfast and get that out of the way. I'll gladly be one of your Jersey boys. But I-" Eddie tried to sound detached and ended up sounding needy. Great. "I know you said that doesn't happen, not in Derry, anyway... But if you want-"

Richie moved so quickly that Eddie didn't even hear him coming. All of a sudden, Richie was spinning him round and cupping his face.

"No, I do!" Richie held him tenderly. "I want it. The whole enchilada."

Richie kissed him and it was better this time, sweeter, warming Eddie's belly and making him blush under Richie's palms. And it was tempting to go on, see where they'd end up - but Eddie was still all too aware of their unbrushed teeth and his grumbling stomach.

"After," he whispered giving Richie's lips one last peck before turning back to the stove.

"You're killing me, Eddie," Richie complained loudly but it was (mostly) for show. "D'you know how long I've pining for your tiny ass?"

"Dunno. A year?" Eddie guessed.

"Since eighth grade."

"Shut up," Eddie dismissed him easily. "You're so full of shit."

Richie grinned.

"You?"

"I don't even know," Eddie admitted, handing him a plate with two pancakes, half burnt. "Too fucking long."

Richie smiled, the way he had smiled earlier that morning, his eyes soft. He stretched, searching the cabinets for syrup. His shirt rode up a little and Eddie had a good look at the hair on Richie's navel; he oggled, to be completely honest. And it felt rebellious and exhilarating to just do that, to look where he wanted, without pretending. He let out a breath he had been holding for months.

~

Their plans to watch as many movies as they could while eating pizza hadn't changed but they had. A little. So they spent the rest of the day in a dance of sorts. They sat on the couch a few inches apart like they used to (plausible deniability and all that) but then one of them would be struck with the realization that they didn't actually have to keep their hands to themselves. It was usually Richie who would reach over and fling an arm around Eddie's shoulders, or put his legs on Eddie's lap, or grab Eddie's hand and play with it idly. They were testing the waters and Eddie had always been cautious (at first, anyway).

"Rich."

It wasn't a particularly good bit of the movie and Eddie had been stealing glances at Richie's lips - in his defense, he had the bad habit of biting at them sometimes. Richie turned, big eyes behind his glasses and Eddie felt his stomach drop. The bravado that had possessed him that morning was nowhere to be found, in its place there was his quickly beating heart stuck in his throat. Richie gave Eddie's thigh a nudge with his foot, as if to wake him up. Eddie had almost forgotten that Richie's legs were on his lap, that he had been leisurely running his fingers through the hair on his ankles while the movie was running. What the fuck was he afraid of?

He moved towards Richie, pushing his lanky legs out of the way, sliding on the couch until they were side to side. Richie let out a shaky breath, it smelled like mint. Eddie smiled. Richie had actually gone and brushed his teeth after they ate pizza because he knew that- well, he hoped that-

Eddie grabbed the back of Richie's neck and kissed him and this time he savored it. It wasn't desperate or rushed. They had all the time in the world. He could take in how soft Richie's hair was, the fact that his jaw had a little peach fuzz and how his lips were chapped but still nice to kiss. He could feel Richie's hands, bony and restless, one moment cupping his face and clawing at the back of his shirt the next, and so warm. He could make a mental note of his smell. Eddie always joked about Richie smelling like shit but he honestly didn't; he smelled like grass and cigarettes and salted caramel.

"You smell nice," Eddie said it before he realized what he was doing.

Richie smiled, his eyes almost disappearing as they crinkled. "You smell nice too," he replied and took a breath, his nose going from Eddie's temple to his collarbone, tickling down his neck. He seemed to like how it made Eddie shiver so he kept going, kissing his way up his jaw, then to his Adam's apple... Eddie sank his fingers in the mess of curls on Richie's head, getting flustered like he had that morning. But so much had changed since then. He wasn't exactly embarrassed feeling himself getting hard but he did wonder if Richie-

His hand moved with a will of its own, tracing that bit of hipbone that popped on the side while Richie sat, twisted as he was to kiss his neck. Then Richie's thigh, practically flung over his own, then upwards, over his jeans, just under his belt-

"Eddie," it sounded almost stern, like a warning, not needy like Eddie had hoped it would sound. Richie stopped kissing him altogether which made Eddie more curious for whatever came next. "You don't want to open that can of worms."

"C'mon, I'm sure it's just a little bigger than a worm," Eddie quipped, a shy smile on his face.

"I mean it," Richie said. "I can't help myself. Next thing you know I'll be dry humping your thigh and you'll be grossed out..."

"Why would I-? Did you miss the bit where I said I wanted handjobs this morning?" Eddie asked.

"Duh, we all do," Richie rolled his eyes.

"Well, I was hoping it would go both ways, y'know? Like normal people do," Eddie cringed as soon as he said it. _'Normal'_. What the fuck did that mean? "I just thought you could, uh, show me how to- Well, what you like to-"

"Eds, you don't have to," Richie's expression softened. "I'm honestly halfway there just making out with you. Good thing about bein' seventeen is it doesn't take much," he chuckled nervously.

"I want to," Eddie said. His throat was dry. He kept staring at Richie's eyes as his hand went down to his belt, undoing it slowly, the clink of it deafening, the movie had ended and there was only static playing in the background. Richie gasped when he reached for the button.

"You can do it over my jeans, I don't mind, I swear," Richie assured him, his eyes shut and his breath hitched.

Eddie moved so that his lips were closer to Richie's ear, the skin of their cheeks brushing faintly.

"I'm sorry for every fucking time I called you disgusting, Rich," he whispered softly, his hand going inside Richie's boxers. Eddie wasn't sure if Richie shivered because his hands were cold or because of how close they were. "I didn't mean it, any of it," Eddie didn't know what to do so he tried what he liked first, his touch light and nervous. Richie bit his lips and let out a shaky breath through his nose. "I'm scared but I want you so bad. You have no idea."

It was true. He wanted Richie so much it scared him. He wanted Richie's spit in his mouth and he wanted Richie's hands on him; it made him dizzy. Most of all, he wanted Richie to stop thinking of him as this breakable thing, this porcelain figurine without feelings, this robot kid afraid of human things like kissing and sex. This hunger he had was heavier than a pill case in a fanny pack, it had been for a while - though weirdly he felt both on the same spot on the lower bit of his tummy.

Eddie moved his hand up and down struggling to find a sense of rhythm with how twisted their limbs were. Richie was surprisingly still, maybe he preferred it that way…

"Jesus-fucking-Christ-on-a-stick," Richie let out the string of curses in one single breath and lost all of his restraint in that. He grabbed Eddie's face to kiss him, mouth open, tongue everywhere, messy. He started writhing against Eddie's hand frantically. "Eddie," he mumbled into his mouth. "Eddie. Ah- Let me- I'm gonna-"

Eddie kissed him back even harder. He probably kissed him a little too hard? He'd have to ask later. But he shivered from head to toe just hearing Richie say his name like that. He bit Richie's lip, swallowed his moans as he came. Richie's hand was up his thigh and every shaky breath Richie let out made him feel like he was made of jelly.

"I- I tried to tell you," Richie gulped, his eyes closed.

"I heard you," Eddie replied, grinding lightly against Richie's thigh; he chuckled at the irony.

Richie opened his eyes, apparently marveling at the sight of Eddie laughing.

"Was that good?" Eddie asked breathily. Richie nodded, eyes still wide. Eddie suspected he'd have to assure him a few more times that he didn't actually think he was gross before he'd believe it but they'd get there, eventually. "Would you-?" Eddie gestured downwards.

"I'd be a dick if I didn't," Richie said lightly like he didn't care but Eddie caught a glimpse of his satisfied smile as Eddie moaned needily after he unceremoniously stuck his hand inside his pants.

"I'm nearly there, what the fuck?!"

"Told ya, Eds. It doesn't take much."

Richie laughed and that made Eddie laugh... Eddie had thought of sex as some deadly, dangerous thing until he started craving it. Then, it was something serious, forbidden, out of reach. But now with Richie- it was warm and nice and fun. And sure he'd have to wash his hands thoroughly after it was done but maybe they'd cuddle up on the couch too and Richie would do an embarrassing rundown of what they'd just done, commentator voice and all, before they both drifted off to sleep. Or maybe Richie would jokingly suggest they take a shower together because he knew Eddie and he knew he'd sleep better that way, and maybe Eddie would get to play with Richie's damp hair and fall asleep counting the freckles on his back. Maybe they'd find a way to make it work.

**6.**

"Rich?!"

"In here," he called from his bedroom.

Eddie ran up the stairs eagerly, not even looking to see if Mrs. Tozier was in the living room.

"Hey," he said, out of breath as he closed the door.

"Hey," Richie replied from his makeshift desk and arched his neck up to kiss him. "You left school in a hurry."

"Yeah, Bill told me he got his letter from NYU this morning and I was trying to intercept mine at the post office," Eddie wheezed and coughed. It was at moments like this that they both remembered hazily the time when Eddie had needed an inhaler.

"Eddie, baby, you could have just walked, we know you're not the athletic type."

It was said in that saccharine tone Richie sometimes used to wind Eddie up while also being cutesy. Eddie had a love-hate relationship with that particular voice: on the one hand, it was nice to be reminded that Richie liked him enough to be sweet and call him "darling" or "honey"; on the other hand, it was pretty fucking annoying.

"Oh, fuck you," he managed, not meaning it. "No, see the thing is I didn't catch it," out of his pocket Eddie produced a mess of envelopes, already slashed open and a little wrinkled. "I know we said we'd open them together but my Mom found them and went through them already."

"She told you?"

"She tried. That's why I ran," Eddie said with a wicked smile.

"Atta boy," Richie said, squeezing him to his side. "Well," he clapped, "let's fucking do it."

Richie produced three envelopes to match Eddie's and opened the first one.

"This one's UCLA," he announced. "I'm in," he mumbled after a minute with disbelief.

"I'm not," Eddie said, biting his cheek. He was happy for Richie but-

"I mean, LA is overrated anyway, right?" Richie tried to downplay it a little. "Okay, Massachusetts?"

Eddie skimmed through the letter. "No, you?"

"No."

They both sighed with a mixture of relief and terror. The last one was their only shot.

"To be honest, I wasn't that sold on going to Boston, you know?" Richie joked half-heartedly. "Too brainy, too close to home."

"Yeah," Eddie's hands were shaking as he opened the last envelope. "Okay, NYU... I'm in!" he looked expectantly at Richie.

"I'm not."

Fuck.

"Fuck!" Richie yelled. After a couple of minutes, the gears in his head started turning. "Listen, we can still do it, I can go to New York, wait tables, do some stand up, you know?"

"Are you crazy? You got into UCLA and you want to wait tables?! You want to live in some disgusting apartment with me and throw away that?" Eddie was full on having an anxiety attack. "You love to pretend that you're not smart, Richie, but you are! And I wouldn't let you-"

"Let me?! Are you my mother now?"

"I didn't mean it like that and _you know it_!" Eddie threw his envelopes and letters to the floor and leaned on the closest wall, trying to calm down his breathing. "Would you let me go with you? To LA? Would you let me go with you and- I don't know- work as a cab driver?"

"No," Richie admitted reluctantly but even as he said it he was still looking for loopholes. "Why don't we stay and do community college, huh? The two of us?"

Eddie looked at him with sad eyes. Neither of them were angry anymore, and this was just Richie grasping at straws. He put his hand on Richie's cheek.

"The point was to leave, remember? To get the hell out of Derry."

"I know," Richie deflated completely.

Eddie walked towards him, to the hollow that Richie's knees made where he was sitting, and put his arms around him. Richie held tight to Eddie's waist.

"The point was to leave together," he mumbled into Eddie's shirt.

"I know," Eddie ran his hands through Richie's hair, trying to soothe him. "I know."

"LA is too fucking far, why did I even apply?" Richie said, sad and empty, even as his hands were helping Eddie out of his shirt and his mouth was leaving kisses on his torso.

"You like the beach," Eddie reminded Richie, guiding him by the hips towards the bed. "You said you always wanted to learn how to surf."

Richie took off his shirt and his jeans. "Have you seen me try to skateboard? I'll fucking drown on my first day there!"

"What about _the heat?_ " Eddie bit back a moan as Richie kissed his way down his body. " _God_. You've always complained about how cold it gets here during the winter..."

"Doesn't mean I want it to be _that hot_ all year long," Richie left love bites on Eddie's hips, his fingers sinking into every inch of skin he could find. "I burn like a lobster, I'll get _fucking-_ skin cancer in like a week."

" _Fuck- ah!_ At least you'll do better than me!" Eddie gasped, his fingers in Richie's hair. "Can you honestly imagine me in dirty, crowded New York?"

Richie moved to roll Eddie so that he was on top, then sat up to hold him close. Eddie tried to recall what they were talking about while also sucking on Richie's neck; his stance on hickies had changed drastically now that he could witness Richie trying to come up with explanations for them when the Losers asked.

"What the _fuck_ was I talking about?" Eddie asked eventually.

"How much New York sucks," Richie replied, and then added in a much lower voice. " _Fuck, shit, that feels good._ "

"Right! Rats all around. Probably will have four roommates for a one room apartment. One of them will _definitely_ be a criminal. I'll be dead before I even set foot in NYU."

"Maybe. But you'll get the _big_ checks," Richie rolled back his eyes, slightly out of breath. "All those- _great_ opportunities, ya know?"

" _Mmhmm_ ," Eddie hummed. "I will definitely have to sell my soul for all that shit," it seemed like he was preemptively apologizing as he kissed Richie, long and hungry, ignoring his gasps for air. "You might not like me after all that."

" _Fuck!_ " Richie bit on Eddie's neck to stop himself from making noise. They both collapsed on the bed, and Richie brought Eddie close. "I don't think that's possible, Eds. I like you too much."

Eddie smiled wide and turned up to look at him. This was _his_ _Richie_ , no one got to see him with his guard down, without the endless witty comebacks, spent and tender, holding him tight and kissing his forehead. When Eddie kissed him, Richie's mouth tasted like tears and 'I'm sorry' and good-byes.

**(2016)**

**7.**

After about half an hour of pacing around his room muttering about the validity of blood oaths taken in childhood and the cons of looking for a murderous clown, Eddie had finally settled down a bit. He sat on the bed, his back to the headboard, his gaze periodically going to the door. Eddie had set his phone on airplane mode as soon as he had started receiving panicked texts from Myra about five hours ago, so he couldn't really say that he was getting distracted with it but he was holding it and staring at it out of habit. It was better than properly looking at the ugly room he had been assigned at the town house, with its weirdass paintings and stuffed animals.

There was a knock to the door.

"Can I come in?"

Eddie winced. It sounded too formal, too nice. He wanted Richie to strut in his bedroom and call him a dick and punch him, shake him up until all the bad memories fell off from his brain.

"Sure, Rich," he replied instead.

Richie looked around sheepishly and closed the door behind him. He stood in the middle of the room for a little while, hands in his pockets, not saying anything.

"This shit's fucked up, right?" he said finally.

"Yeah, really fucked up," Eddie replied.

"Can we talk about it?"

Eddie frowned. Too fucking polite. _Where the fuck was his Richie?!_

"I don't know, can we?" he spat.

Richie lit up and finally seemed to relax. He joined him on the bed, sat a few inches away from him, arms crossed.

"I- I completely forgot about you guys. Don't take it personally," Eddie rushed to add, "it was literally like my whole childhood. I don't think I have thought about my Mom in years."

"Weird," Richie replied vacantly, "I think about her constantly."

Eddie huffed. "I'm serious, Rich."

"I know," he sighed. "I completely forgot too. Just went full on Memento there and only now-"

"Yeah, me too."

"How much do you remember, Eds?"

Eddie did a mental count of what had been mentioned at dinner... He remembered the clown, he remembered Ben with those horrible gashes on his stomach, he remembered his broken arm.

"Most of that summer, I think," Eddie said finally.

"Nothing past that?" Richie asked carefully.

"I guess it'll take a while... Not much just yet," he smiled at Richie but he didn't smile back.

"Let me know when it happens," he said and got up, ready to leave.

"Hey!" Eddie grabbed his arm. "What am I supposed to remember? Do I owe you money?"

Richie chuckled but it was a sad sound still.

"Nothing like that, don't worry, Eddie," Richie said and walked out.

**8.**

The soft murmur of people talking drew Eddie deeper into the medicated slumber, he was familiar with the feeling from his childhood when his mother would give him a little too much cough syrup - this was way stronger but it was the same haze that made his eyelids heavy as lead.

At some point the soft voices had turned into stage whispers and then in something loud enough for Eddie to make out.

"-you know I was this close to losing him, right? A couple of inches to the left and he wouldn't have been thrown across the cave like a fucking rag doll, he would have been impaled like an extra in one of Bill's gore-ass movies!"

It was a hoarse, nasal voice; did Eddie know it?

"Keep your voice down!"

"It's a hospital, Bev, not a fucking library! And Eddie's in a comma not asleep, okay?!"

Bev! Right! Eddie saw flashes of copper hair, cat-like smiles and bright eyes, the smell of cigarettes and strawberry perfume.

"He's going to wake up, okay? The doctors said so," after that Bev's voice sounded muffled like she was hugging someone. "He's going to be fine, honey."

"Yeah, I know." A sigh.

"Okay, I'm going back to the town house. You sure you don't want me to stay so you can sleep?" Bev sounded worried and a little annoyed.

"Positive."

"Okay," a faint kiss, "let me know if anything happens, Richie."

Richie! The dark hair and the goofy smiles, the never-ending arguments, the feeling of bony hands holding him... Richie had been holding him and calling his name right before everything went black...

Eddie started recalling slowly what had happened in the past few days, mainly through the feeling in his body. He ached all over but there was a sharp tug on his face where Bowers had stabbed him, and a pulsing pain on the back of his head where he had probably landed when he had fallen inside It's lair. The clouds of sedatives were pulling him back into the comfort of being completely unconscious...

"Eddie," Richie whispered, his voice was closer now, "you look like absolute shit." He held Eddie's hand carefully. "So it's okay if you take a few hours or a few days to wake up... You need your beauty sleep," he laughed but it was a wet, pitiful sound. "Just- Promise me you will wake up. I need to tell you something- when you remember- well, even if you don't-" Richie took Eddie's hand in his, raised it carefully to his lips. Eddie didn't remember Richie being capable of such tenderness, not to him, not to anyone...

~

When Eddie finally could open his eyes, his body felt twice as sore but his head was a lot less cloudy. It felt like late at night but with the aggressive fluorescents of the hospital it was impossible to tell.

"Richie?" Eddie croaked, seeing him languidly lying on the hospital chair.

Richie woke up with a start and jumped to close the distance between him and the bed.

"Eddie!" Richie moved to cup Eddie's face, a sweet smile lighting him up. "You are- I thought you-" then, he seemed to remember himself and took a step back. "Do you- Uh- Do you need anything?"

"Yeah, just water," Eddie managed.

Richie called for the nurse and saw as she checked his vitals and fuzzed over him, gave him water and checked his stitches. It took a while, and Richie didn't sit, he just stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Eventually, she left and Richie was still there, clueless.

"Is everyone else okay?" Eddie asked, breaking the silence. He was still talking slowly and his breathing was laboured.

"Yeah! Yeah," Richie fiddled with the end of the bedsheets. "Ben had it the worst but he's all fine now... He had his stitches taken out a few days ago."

"Right!" Eddie tried to sit up and winced. "How long was I out?"

"Ten days," Richie replied a little too quickly. Eddie had even grown a bit of a scruff during that time.

"Shit!" Eddie blinked quickly trying to focus on the things that could have happened in the meantime. "Did you- Uh- I mean, does my wife know?" he asked finally, looking a little scared of the answer.

Richie flinched almost imperceptibly. "Nah. You know how completely incompetent everyone is in Derry. They didn't even ask for your next of kin," Richie shrugged. In other circumstances it could have sounded sad, but Eddie looked quite relieved.

"Good, yeah, that's- that's great," Eddie sighed and softened somewhat, a little smile playing on his face. "Is everyone still here? In Derry, I mean?"

"Yeah, dude! We were all waiting for you to wake up," Richie smiled wide. "They'll come by tomorrow, it's like two in the morning... Visiting hours are over," he explained.

"Oh, right," Eddie nodded absently. "So, it's your turn to keep watch?"

"Something like that," Richie deflected.

Until then, Eddie hadn't quite looked at the shadows under Richie's eyes, amplified by his glasses, or his wrinkled clothes, or his beard. He looked awful.

"You've been staying here every night, haven't you?" the remark, in Eddie's exhausted voice, sounded almost angry.

Richie merely smiled and sat back on the chair.

"I owed you that much, Eds."

"I-" it took Eddie a while to find something to say. He furrowed his brow. "It wasn't a debt to be payed. It wasn't some fucking loan with interests or some shit."

"I know."

"You didn't have to- I wasn't even conscious for most of-"

"Yeah, I know. Relax, Eddie," Richie was deflecting still.

Eddie exhaled. "Thank you," he said finally. "For getting me out."

Richie stared at him for a little while, hesitant. "Thank you for waking up."

~

Ironically, Eddie couldn't sleep that night, the pain kept him up and more pain meds would have sent him back into a comma, the doctors said. So he talked to take his mind off things, and bombarded Richie with questions about what had happened after he had blacked out.

"-so Pennywise became, sort of like, this ugly, baby pancake and Mike reached into him and took his heart out and we all crushed it."

"Ugh, gross," Eddie deadpanned.

"I mean, everything turned into that gray, floaty dust so it wasn't, you know, bloody or anything but, yeah, pretty gross," Richie agreed.

"I'm glad I wasn't there for that part," Eddie huffed.

"Yeah, you would have hated it," Richie seemed to lose his train of thought for a second. "Stan would have hated it too," he added after a pause. "I kind of hoped he would be back at the end of everything, you know? Isn't that the dumbest thing ever?"

Eddie bit the inside of his good cheek and instead of answering he said: "I miss him too."

"Yeah."

**9.**

Richie opened the door to his apartment, Eddie walked in behind him.

"It's not much but-" Richie shrugged and dragged Eddie's suitcase behind him, toward the bedroom. "You will obviously get the bed because I'm an asshole but not that much of an asshole."

Eddie smiled, not even attempting to argue; he'd try to renegotiate for the couch when it had been more than a few days since he had been released from the hospital.

"Thanks, for letting me crash here."

"Don't mention it, Eds. _Mi casa es su casa_ ," Richie added with a goofy laugh, an echo of a past life that tickled the back of Eddie's neck. "Besides, the sound of your wife screaming through the phone speaker is going to haunt me for weeks so I might not even sleep. You'd think she'd be a bit more gracious being asked for a divorce by her missing, assumed dead, twink of a husband."

"You're the twink," Eddie retorted without thinking.

"Eddie," Richie tilted his head condescendingly, "I'm six foot two and hairy as fuck. Check your lingo."

Eddie chuckled. "I'll have to do some research about it, I s'ppose."

'It' being the big confession, the thing that all the Losers had thought at some point but never said outright. Richie had chimed in with a _'Talking about bravery and pride, guess who's bi?'_ after they had read Stan's letter together in Eddie's hospital room. It felt like such a tiny thing now. Richie was obviously still Richie. The only difference was that one day he might bring a guy home and Eddie shouldn't be phased about it, which he felt would definitely be easier said than done.

"I'll let you unpack and shit," Richie offered with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. As he walked away he asked: "Sushi?"

"Why the hell not," Eddie sighed. He had never eaten uncooked fish before, and he had almost died anyway. Might as well.

**10.**

They had fallen into a routine of sorts. Every night, they'd eat dinner watching some God awful reality show or some old movie, and then just lounge on the couch in comfortable silence. Eddie would go to bed and Richie would unfold the couch and they'd wish each other good night awkwardly. And Eddie wanted nothing more than to get rid of the awkwardness.

"I was thinking... It's time you get back your bed and I get the couch," Eddie offered as he watched Richie set up the sheets on the pull out.

"Dunno, Eds. I've been pretty comfortable sleeping on the couch, what if I don't want to give it up?"

Richie made a show of sitting on it, arms crossed, daring Eddie to try to move him or change his mind.

"Don't be dumb, it's your place!"

"My place, my rules," Richie shrugged.

Eddie moved to sit down next to him and try to push him off the edge.

"Come on! I'm trying to be nice!" Eddie raised his voice.

"Eddie, you are a lot of things but nice isn't one of them."

Eddie froze for a second. Richie was right, of course he was. For the umpteenth time since he had been staying with him, he was hit with the realization that Richie knew him better than he knew himself. He still had to account for those lost memories of Derry after the summer of 1989...

"Rich?"

"What? I'm not giving up the couch!"

"Fine! But I want to ask you something."

Richie was still crossing his arms stubbornly. "Shoot."

"Remember when you showed up in my room that first night back in Derry? You said I'd remember something and that I should tell you when I did," Eddie said, Richie glanced at him and waited. "I haven't- I haven't remembered and if it's that important, I would like you to fucking tell me."

Richie's jaw tightened. "I'm sure it'll come back to you," he offered half-heartedly.

"My skull was literally cracked open and I was in a fucking comma! There's that, and there's the curse, and-" Eddie stopped, he was so tired. He wanted to fix whatever needed fixing with Richie. "Please."

Richie turned towards him, he looked sad. "It's not that I don't want to tell you, I do. I think you won't believe me and it would hurt, so-"

Eddie looked at him with eyebrows raised. "What? When we were fifteen we saw the Loch Ness monster hiding in the quarry? Our lives are a fucking sci-fi shit storm, Rich. I think I can handle it."

Richie stared at him for a while, it felt like a full minute.

"Fine. What I wanted you to remember was that you and I hooked up when we were seventeen, your idea," Richie rushed to add. "We had a big, ol' gay time together. Stanley knew, because of course he did. We had planned to leave Derry together. But you got into NYU and I got into UCLA, you forgot, I forgot... And I-"

Richie had turned away at some point but now he looked at Eddie intently, and Eddie didn't know how he should respond. His mouth was hanging open and he tried to picture it, patch it up from the bits and pieces he hadn't been able to understand: Richie kissing his hand at the hospital. Eddie's own weird reserve regarding Richie's coming out. Richie holding his face when he woke up. His rush to get divorced from Myra as soon as humanly possible. Richie looking sadder and sadder as the days went by. The way his stomach fluttered whenever Richie touched him or stared at him too long. Everything fit, in some way. But he couldn't, he just couldn't.

"I can't remember. I'm sorry," Eddie squeezed his eyes shut.

"Do you believe me, though?" Richie asked and it sounded an awful lot like 'Do you trust me?'

"I do," Eddie said, eyes still closed, he didn't want to face Richie just yet, to see his disappointment at Eddie somehow forgetting something so important, so big...

But then Eddie felt Richie's hands on his face, cupping his cheeks, and even with his eyes shut Eddie could tell Richie was close.

"I can stop right now," Richie offered in a whisper, but the touch of his skin made Eddie shiver with electricity, making him feel more alive than he had in years.

"Don't," Eddie finally opened his eyes and Richie was still staring, his head tilted and his eyes pleading. "Don't," he repeated.

Richie ran his fingers through Eddie's hair, his eyes lingering on Eddie's collarbone and the wrinkles around his eyes. Every move was full of that stoic tenderness Richie had shown in bits when he thought he was going to lose Eddie.

"You're so pretty up close, Ed" he said dumbly.

Then, Richie kissed his scarred cheek, his forehead, the tip of his nose, and that made Eddie smile. It seemed like such a little gesture, but it lifted the heaviness between them. In a way, it all felt like Richie tiptoeing around, like he was afraid Eddie would run from him. It was so unlike the Richie of his childhood, all chaos and no fear.

"You cared for me, right? Back then, I mean," Eddie asked. "It wasn't just sex."

"Of course I cared for you. God, it hit me like a motherfucking train when I saw you at the Jade... Almost got the wind knocked out of me," Richie added with a little smile.

"Wish you'd told me right away," Eddie said.

"Yeah, sure, and you wish I would have swept you up and made out with you in front of all our friends," Richie rolled his eyes. "You got married, Eds! You didn't even remember me!"

"You didn't either," Eddie replied quickly.

In truth, Eddie would have probably screamed and punched Richie in the face if he had told Eddie the minute they had seen each other that night. But it would have saved Richie a lot of hurt.

"It's so fucked up," Richie moved to fix the hair around Eddie's temple. "Me remembering everything while you didn't was like the clown just screwing with us even more. We could have talked, fixed stuff before we went into the cave... And then I thought you were a goner and that fucked me up even worse," he let out another one of those wet chuckles that tied Eddie's insides in a knot. Eddie leaned in, just so that his forehead touched Richie's. It wasn't much but maybe it would sooth him a little, maybe if they stayed like that long enough Eddie would remember...

Out of nowhere, Richie laughed, a proper laugh with a snort and everything.

"What?" Eddie asked withdrawing a little.

"Nothing, 's just that-" Richie shook his head and wiped his nose with his sleeve, smiling all the while. "God, I don't even know if I should tell you this. Ugh, okay, I'll tell you. Uh, one time we were having sex and it was one of those times when it's serious, ya know? You were trying to be sexy and smoldering," Richie chuckled again. "You were all like," Richie grabbed the back of Eddie's neck and brought their heads together again and put on one of his deep voices, "like, _'Look at me, Rich'_ , and _'Say you’re mine'_ , you know?"

Eddie didn't move a muscle; he actually didn't know.

"And then you got the most intense cramp on your leg and had to pull out," Richie was having trouble containing his laughter long enough to finish telling the story. "I don't even know how but you kicked me on the chin and then you fell down the bed... Ah! It was hilarious!"

Eddie had only managed a smile out of it while Richie was crying from laughing so hard. It felt like one of the private jokes they used to have. Sometimes Bill or Mike would ask what they were laughing about and then they'd try to explain but in the end it felt like they would have had to be there to understand... Looking at Richie wiping his eyes, it hit Eddie all of a sudden that this _was_ one of their private jokes.

"Sounds like fun," Eddie said and it came out like a question. It made Richie look at him with those puppy eyes. And some part of Eddie knew Richie would be content just with Eddie knowing, with Eddie believing him. That was it, no strings attached. But Eddie wanted to be in on the joke and have every single string attached. Stan had written something about holding on tight to the good things, so he buried his hands in Richie's hair, brought him close, and kissed him.

It would be a lie to say that Eddie suddenly remembered everything, he didn't, but there was muscle memory in the way they kissed. He knew the smell and feel of Richie's skin, he recognized the warmth of holding him, he knew how to move along with him like a song he knew the lyrics to but hadn't heard in years.

"Fuck, I missed this," Richie mumbled against Eddie's lips.

For Eddie it wasn’t nostalgia at all. It was like being able to see color after a lifetime of being colorblind. He marveled at everything. Richie was kissing him hungrily and at one point Eddie couldn't stop himself from moving away and saying: "It's- Not back but- You weren't so hairy back then, were you?" his hand holding Richie's jaw, prickly with stubble.

Richie cackled. "No, Eds, this amount of chest hair on an eighteen year old would be worrying."

"I like it," Eddie said after a moment of thought and smiled, a real carefree smile for the first time in a very long while. Was it really so important that he remembered past Richie when he was clearly half in love already with the current one?

"I'm fucking glad," Richie laughed again, tilting his head a little when he noticed Eddie staring. "What's all this about?"

"Nothing, just realized something," Eddie said cryptically.

"Okay?"

"I like you. Right now, here," Eddie said.

"Again, very glad but I'm not following you, Eds," Richie said.

"I know I sound like I'm losing my mind but- Fuck our tragic past. Fuck Pennywise. Fuck all that shit. We have this," he ended, cupping Richie's face.

"Damn, brushing with death has made you profound, huh?" Richie deadpanned and when Eddie didn't laugh he sighed. "I just hope you know what you're getting into. You don't remember it but I can be a handful sometimes."

"Oh, fuck you, _I'm a handful_! Yes, I want this, okay?"

"Fine!" Richie almost shouted. "We're both getting the bed then, how's that sound?!"

"Pretty nice actually," Eddie said and snorted.

Maybe they'd find a way to make it work after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are love, I promise to reply <3


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